


Walking A Tightrope With You

by alostautumn2k16



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Memory Loss, Mild Language, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alostautumn2k16/pseuds/alostautumn2k16
Summary: Junmyeon tries to make Yixing remember their happy marriage life after Yixing got into a car accident and forgot about everything. Including their loves for the whole ten years.





	Walking A Tightrope With You

**Author's Note:**

> So hello lovely people! I would like to pop my note at the start -- so bear with me! Firstly, I would like to thank the mods so, so, so much for being patient with me. I needed extension after extension and they were so understanding. Ahhh, thank you- I appreciate it so much and thank you for giving us writers such a lovely fest to write for <3 Secondly, my gratitude to the prompter. Thanks so much for giving me this story to write. I hope it echoes most of what you expected and you enjoy it!
> 
> So this story was basically an echo of that tearjerker, The Vow— but very tweaked and Sulay ahaha. It is very long and ran away from me a little- but this is my first time writing for this dynamic and can I just say that they are so wonderfully pure ahhhhhhhh *____*. It is a love for the ages, especially in this one. It’s been a journey. 
> 
> Aside from warning for mild angst, and mild sexual content, swearing, I hope you enjoy. Be well

“And…. record.” 

Yixing’s grinning face appears on the screen as the red dot victoriously flickers in the corner. His eyes scrunch as he waves at the phone camera energetically.

“Hi there future Junmyeon. This is your future _husband_ talking! Just a few hours before our big day finally starts! Currently, we are in the kitchen of our new home and you are a little annoyed with me…” 

“Hm. A little.” 

Yixing side-steps, allowing the camera a full view of Junmyeon’s -- lightly --  annoyed face. Alongside his peach pastel boxers and mismatched pyjama top. He is sitting on their empty kitchen counter, a piece of toast in his mouth. With a huff, he takes it out, wipes the crumbs from his lips and offers the camera a wave as Yixing nears him.

“Somewhere. Out there. We are getting immortalised into tiny voodoo dolls and being stabbed by needles.” Junmyeon whines, planting a hand on Yixing’s shoulder as the other continues to film, “I hope that mental image makes you happy. I might not be a bride - but I’m pretty sure this is still considered unlucky.” 

“Don’t say that.” Yixing cooes, pulling the camera closer as he turns and kisses Junmyeon’s cheek lightly, “And I am very lucky actually.” 

At the sheer level of affection found in the words, Junmyeon’s expression _softens_ and Yixing celebrates his victory by raising the selfie stick and allowing both their faces to feature fully in the video.

“We are getting married todaaaay!” Yixing takes Junmyeon’s hand and presses a tender kiss to the back of his knuckles as he grins, “After ten years, I will finally fulfil my promise to Junmyeonnie. Everyone cheer, wooooo!” He cups a hand over his lips, emulating a crowd of cheers as the other laughs behind him. 

“Woo!” Junmyeon joins in, before shyly looking away and giving Yixing a slight push, “Aish, so _cheesy_.”

“Aish,” echoes Yixing as he playfully tugs on Junmyeon’s hand, causing him to look up at the camera again, “Come on, Junmyeonnie. Cheer with me! We did it! We’re awesome! We’re going to have the best day ever. _Finally_.”

Junmyeon blinks as he responds with a series of soft ‘hmm’s’ before quietly resting his arms around Yixing’s neck and nuzzling his face against his hair. He takes it all in: the words, the moment - the smell of his shampoo on Yixing. He’s been unnaturally edgy the past few days because of how nervous he’s been and it’s overshadowed what had clearly been Yixing’s principal aim with his constant videotaping and nonsense texts.

_Junmyeonnie! 100 more hours till wedding! Woooooo! Count down with me!_

_Junmyeonnie! 99 more hours till wedding! Wooooooo!  
(around 110 hours for wedding night, dun-dun-dun :O ) _

And so on.

The key message behind all this was that they were really finally going to _do this_.

It has been a long few years. A lot of hoping, wishing, _grafting_ \-- and now they are going to deliver on their ultimate promise to each other.

The importance of it all was finally beginning to dawn on Junmyeon and he soon found himself with a very runny nose and the urgent need to kiss every inch of his handsome husband’s dorky face.

Hiding his flushed face with a hand, Junmyeon stretches out his arm to lower the stick, pausing the recording, as Yixing turns and eyes him with the same unfocused smile.

Junmyeon merely returns the smile before leaning forwards and pulling him into a deep and tender kiss. The action was distracting enough for the man to drop his camera and focus instead on wrapping long arms around him. At the sensation, Junmyeon sighs and relaxes, allowing Yixing to chase a needed breath as he smiles at him.

“You’re all snotty.” Yixing states pointedly, “You’re okay with going ahead right?”

“Of course I am, fool.” Junmyeon responds, sniffing as he laughs when Yixing attempts to dab his face with his own sleeve, “I’ll marry you today even if I am chucking up all over the place.”

“Good.” Yixing nods, “Me too.” 

Junmyeon then hops off the counter, drifting into a closer and tighter embrace with his future husband as he buries his face into his shoulder. He mustn’t cry. Crying before a wedding sounded unlucky. He didn’t want any more of it. Good vibes only. Good vibes only for the best day of his life.

“Don’t stress yourself out, baby.” Yixing murmurs, caressing his back softly -- voice taking on a firmer stance, “I want you to enjoy it.” 

“I want it to be perfect.” Junmyeon reveals after a moment, tears settling on his eyelashes, as he rests his chin on Yixing’s shoulder and whispers into his ear, “Because we worked so hard. We worked really hard for today. We worked _really_ hard for all of this…you especially… ” 

The long sleepless nights at work; the constant money-minding; a never ending wave of stress which had frequently stretched his boyfriend to the very edge. 

It piques Junmyeon how easily Yixing forgets about it all -- when he could never get such memories to leave his own mind. 

“Yeah,” Yixing says, “But this is our promise to each other, remember?” Tenderly, he brushes away a strand of stray dark hair from Junmyeon’s forehead as he pulls him back to hold his face in his hands, “A happy future.” 

“I’m so happy.” Junmyeon declares, before breaking out into a tender smile, as he submits to the temptation and peppers Yixing’s face with playful kisses -- snotty, wet, dreadfully _domestic_ \-- as the other takes it like a scout. “I’m-” Nose. “Happy.” Cheek. “Happy.” Other cheek. “With.” Forehead. “You.” 

Lips.

“Forever.” Yixing mouths against his lips, as his arms return, sliding naturally around his waist.

They don’t kiss; the touch lingers with breathless intimacy.

“Forever.” Junmyeon echoes, as he warmly places a finger on Yixing’s bottom lip, tracing the shape. 

Naturally, Yixing’s perpetually roaming hands would dissolve the otherwise tender moment by casually slipping into Junmyeon’s boxers. With a loud huff, Junmyeon is once again reduced to the same state of whining and cursing and reminding his future husband (T-6 hours) that if there is anything he is certain to be unlucky before a wedding, it is what he is picturing.

 

Yixing refuses it with the same determination.

“I told you, Junmyeonnie! I’m lucky, lucky _lucky!_ ” 

The camera continues to record, forgotten on the floor, as on the screen the happy couple whirl around their bare kitchen-- Yixing spinning Junmyeon around the air, hands secured around the other’s middle, as the other yells - spluttering out into soft chuckles - 

“ _Yixing_ \-- stop!”

“Neeeeever!” 

 

-

**_THREE MONTHS LATER._ **

 

-

 

Did he turn the oven off? 

What a stupid and inappropriate thought. 

Junmyeon’s husband was being treated in the intensive care unit and his mind chooses to focus its energy on the set of fish burgers he may have left cooking in the oven. They were supposed to be for his dinner. They were halfway into their cooking times (25 mins) when he received the frantic call from Chanyeol, a close friend and resident emergency doctor in the local hospital. 

 

“ _Junmyeon, you have to get here. Now. It’s Yixing-- something happened. His motorcycle--_ ”

 

Now he really thinks about it, he has a conscious memory of switching the oven off before he darted off in panic for his car keys. Good. The last thing he wants is Yixing coming home to a house in cinders. 

Alone, Junmyeon looks around blankly, eyes zoning in on the clinically white walls and the people ambling around in their matching white outfits and white shoes. Every so often there will be a panicked beep from somewhere -- and then the rush of feet running on tiles -- and Junmyeon’s stomach drops as he instantly wonders whether that could be for Yixing. 

Should he be somewhere too? Just in case? Ready to run? 

Of course not. Yixing will be fine. Chanyeol said so -- and he was a good doctor. Top 1% of his class.

_He suffered a serious head injury. But he’s been responsive to tests so far._

 

Responsive. That was good.

He leans back, head hitting the wall. Once. Twice. He remembers the last thing Yixing says to him. It was during the morning on his way to work. _“Want me to call you at lunch today? It might be late because I’ve got back-to-back meetings with counsel._ ” In his memory, Junmyeon shakes his head, muttering something passive about focusing on work and eating instead of worrying about him being alone in the house. _“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Have fun at your meeting.”_

He’s a goddamn liar. He isn’t fine.

With a breath, he closes his eyes and wills the Junmyeon in his memory to do the exact opposite and correct his unforgivable mistake. Instead of waving it off as he had, the wiser Junmyeon in his memory asks -- no _demands_ \--  Yixing to call him - and to expect a long call. They would talk and have their usual dreary conversation about work before Junmyeon spends a good half hour telling him how much he loved him. 

Over and over. His sappy spiel would sound something like: 

_“I-love-you-Yixing-ah. I love you so much. I love you so, so much. Don’t get on your motorcycle today. Don’t use the shortcut. Don’t get ran over by that drunk idiot. Just come home. I’ll make you your favourite soup. No more of those frozen fish burgers you secretly hate. Just come home. I’ll be here. I’ll be here waiting for you. I love you. I love you… ”_

Junmyeon falls asleep on the hospital chair and is woken up by Chanyeol lightly shaking his shoulders.

He wakes up with a jolt, almost falling off the plastic seat as he peers up at his friend.

“Yixing?” he blurts out, “Is he a-awake? What -- is everything okay?” 

“Yes. I mean. The doctor will come talk to you about him. But they said you can see him now.” 

“Oh,” He wipes his hands against his face as he nods, standing up shakily, “Let’s go then.”

 

-

 

 

Seeing Yixing for the first time shocks Junmyeon in a way he doesn’t expect. 

His lean form is stretched across a bed-- motionless and grey. A carousel of hospital equipment surround him, wires and tubes trapped in veins and hidden under his sheets, surging vital liquids into his pallid body. His face is puffy from the medicines and is stifled by a trauma brace, one of which also cares for his neck.

The room is filled with endless beeping. Junmyeon can barely hear the doctor’s voice above it: 

_beep_... “We are still assessing the extent of… _beep_... “if there is bleeding then we may have to operate…. _beep_.... Our main goal right now is to monitor him…” 

At some point, they leave the room and Junmyeon is left alone with Yixing and the machines. Slowly, he approaches him, and then he shakes himself out of it. This was Yixing on the bed. Sure, he might look different -- like one of the patients he’s seen on the television medical dramas back home. But this is is husband. Yes.

And at the bitter acceptance of the reality before him, Junmyeon suddenly spills from the absent stupor which has cushioned him since leaving home and he shakily bursts into tears. His legs almost give in as he stumbles forward to Yixing’s side, waving his head as tears leak through his knuckles. He clenches his hand tightly around his mouth to suppress a sob, deciding to take a moment to compose himself. “Yixing-ah,” he manages, looking directly at his husband’s closed eyes as he speaks-

“I’m here,” he whispers, eyes blurry as he reaches for his hand and carefully holds it, ached by the coldness of the flesh, “We’ll go home soon, okay? We’ll go home soon. You’ll be okay. I’m here. I’m right here. _I love you_. I love you…” 

The words repeat, whispered, as he plants the lightest kiss on the top of Yixing’s head. He remains there for a while, just holding Yixing’s hand until it warms, tracing comforting circles into the flesh. This used to be the remedy for Yixing and his stress. He’s simple like that. All he ever demands are kisses; the occasional massage; and long cuddles on his bad days.

“I’m here, Yixing-ah. Junmyeonnie’s here. You’ll be okay.” 

Tears sting Junmyeon’s eyes again as he exhales, pulling a chair to him and dropping onto it. He then reaches forward and kisses Yixing’s hand as he fights and presses down the threat of another wretched sob.

 

_Be strong, Junmyeonnie._

Yixing’s voice echoes in his head with words as familiar as the pledges of love he’s already helplessly shared. And Junmyeon finds great comfort in it as he shuts his eyes, keeping his fingers entwined with his husband’s, as he rests his head on the bed.

With time, he is comforted by the steady sound of the beeping, aware that with each beat, it is a reassurance that Yixing is still with him.

Fighting.

 

 

 

-

 

 

Junmyeon wakes up. He’s not sure when he slept or what exactly woke him up. He simply remembers opening his eyes and realising that Yixing was _mumbling_. Adrenaline shoots up his spine as he scrambles up to his feet and looks across, uttering a loud and hopeful, 

“Yixing?”

Yixing looks at him, eyes bleary and bloodshot. His lips mumble words, soft and weak, and Junmyeon leans in and listens closely to the syllable,

“ _Where?_ ” 

“Hospital,” Junmyeon blurts out, the reality crashing in-- Yixing is awake! This must be a good sign, right? “You’re at the hospital. You were… hurt in an accident.” He blinks hoping it won’t cause a panic, “But it’s okay, they’re taking good care of you.”

Yixing looks at him, blank before he blinks twice, with Junmyeon presuming it to be a sign of comprehension like a nod of the head.

“Do you want me to get someone?” Junmyeon then asks, “I should go look for someone.”

Yixing nods, and manages a smile, mouthing two barely audible words that would subsequently shatter all of Junmyeon’s hopes that the entire nightmare has reached a happy end- 

“Thanks _doctor_.” 

At first, he thinks he mishears and then he turns around,

“Doctor?” 

Horror stuns Junmyeon’s heart — preceding the wave of absolute confusion as he watches Yixing’s closed eyes.

Dumbly, he then steps out of the room, repeating the words over and over.

 

 

-

 

Junmyeon relays this information to the doctor. In the next 24 hours, a CT scan of Yixing’s brain is performed alongside a host of other tests which he was finally stable enough to undertake. Once all the information was combined, the fragments of medical information were finally pieced together into a much clearer diagnosis.

“It is highly likely that he may wake up suffering from memory loss due to the severity of his head injury.” 

Having had virtually no sleep, Junmyeon takes a moment to process the information. “Okay.” He begins, before tapping a finger on his chest, “But… I’m his husband. Surely he can’t just forget _me_.” The emphasis is harsh and makes Junmyeon uncomfortable.

But he knows it’s true. He’s not just one of Yixing’s employees at the soccer academy -- nor one of the baristas he encounters when he goes for his afternoon tea. Junmyeon is his husband. The man he _loves_ ; and has loved for a whole decade of his life. 

“I’m afraid, Mr. Kim that this has to be assessed on a case-by-case basis so let’s see what happens when he wakes up.”

Junmyeon nods, stepping out of the room as the doctor politely lets him out. He convinces himself that he misheard -- and that tomorrow it would all resolve successfully as it usually did. This thought instils within him a trustful calm which he uses to lull himself to a well-deserved rest. 

He rests by Yixing’s side, exhausted but still hopeful. 

 

 

 

And yet.

 

When Yixing wakes up the next day with no memory of him, Junmyeon wonders if he’s still lost in the nightmare and he simply hasn’t woken up. The moment this dawns on him -- in the blank expression on his husband’s face as he is questioned -- all grip on reality slips and his fears and shock _blurs_ into one grisly conclusion. The white walls; the sullen health professionals; and grey sickly Yixing who watches him like he’s just one of them. 

Reality jolts back into him at the sound of his name being repeated. Not by Yixing now; but by Yixing in the past.

 _Junmyeonnie_.

 

“So, you don’t remember me.” Junmyeon finds himself at the foot of the hospital bed, staring down at his husband in shock, “Not even a little.”

“I don’t.” Yixing looks dreadful. But he can see how hard he’s trying to remember. The strain of it all evident from the clench in his expression. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s me, Junmyeon.” Junmyeon reaches out for his hand, “I’m your _husb--_ ”

Nausea knocks into Junmyeon like a wall and he stammers.

He leaves the hospital room abruptly, all of it feeling like too much and too _little_ at the same time. The nightmare -- it is all coming true and he is being pulled and squeezed in all directions -- and it’s too much, too much, he can’t take it all in. 

Junmyeon disappears into a toilet cubicle and sits there a while, cradling his head in his hands.

 

 

 

 

After some help from Chanyeol who takes him to have lunch, Junmyeon returns to the ward and meets with the doctor who completed his assessment of Yixing. The diagnosis is as follows: retrograde amnesia of a highly severe degree.

“From our assessment, he has lost ten years worth of his memories.”

“Ten years?” Junmyeon gasps, glancing at Chanyeol, chills shooting up and down his arm as he smoothes a hand over his chest, “Ten.”

So this was where the nightmare had taken his Yixing: to the time before they had met. It is a little poetic — and so beautifully tragic that it deserves much more deserving recipients than a simple couple like Junmyeon and Yixing -- and he knows this, and it _hurts_.

“Ten, Chanyeol. He doesn’t remember me at all…”

And as Junmyeon feels himself crumble again, fated to dissolve and disappear into the space, the _empty_ where he could be free from the horror of it all -- he hears the doctor’s voice, a ghostly tenor over the static,

“He will require plenty of care. He has physical injuries which will require a separate course of therapy. But he will not need to stay longer in the hospital. He may be discharged in a few days providing that we are able to confirm the results of his CT scan.”

“So he can come home,” murmurs Junmyeon as he slowly returns, light entering his eyes, “But will he come home with me?” _If he doesn’t know me._

“Yes, he has consented.” The doctor affirms. 

“Oh,” Junmyeon locks his trembling hands together as he nods, “That’s good.”

“This area of neuroscience remains very ambiguous, Mr. Kim. There is a possibility that his memories will return but there is no guarantee. I understand that it is extremely shocking and distressing but you will both be given all the support you need.”

His doctor and Chanyeol offer him the same kind smile. The type of weary smile all doctors learn to give. Warm enough to care; distant enough not to invest.

It’s not enough. But Junmyeon appreciates it nonetheless.

“Thank you.” 

When he steps out of the room, he immediately makes a beeline for Yixing’s room and enters. On the bed, Yixing is awake and moving his fingers, the very fingers which Junmyeon has held since the night of the accident, and he is drumming them against the sheets. He turns slightly at the sound of someone entering the room and greets Junmyeon with a rough,

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” Junmyeon returns.

“You’re Junmyeon.” Yixing blinks at him, squinting, which forces Junmyeon to come closer, “Junmyeon.”

Softly, the visitor nods, and he moves to reside by the right side of Yixing’s bed, looking over him, the distraught expression on his face blindingly clear as the reality sinks in with a terrible force again.

“Don’t you remember me?” he murmurs, “Not even a little?”

“A little,” Yixing’s voice sounds strained, as if he too is withholding tears, “Your voice is familiar.”

Junmyeon doesn’t hold back when the tears tease at his eyes again. He surrenders, allowing them to fall, as he wipes his face, sniffling.

“That’s g-good.” He nods, “We’ll make you better, then yeah?”

As Junmyeon struggles to contain himself, Yixing simply stares.

“I can’t believe I have a husband.” He states out of the blue, a few moments later.

But he says it fondly -- in a tone so quintessentially _Yixing_ that it makes Junmyeon laugh slightly, hiccuping, with his throat still sore.

“You do.”

He immediately glances down and rubs where his wedding band is kept snug around his finger, like he’s cleaning it.

“Junmyeon.” Yixing repeats.

“Junmyeon,” the other echoes, “Kim Junmyeon.”

“I like it.”

Another laugh escapes from Junmyeon’s chest -- more hollow, colder, as his mind bitterly adds a private,

_He’s yours. All yours._

The syllables remain locked on Yixing’s lips when he falls asleep again as a result of the medications. 

 

 

 

When he wakes up, Junmyeon hopes for the best but he still retains none of the memories that he had lost. However there is comfort in that he remembers Junmyeon’s name from before he slept and he wakes up with it, uttering it in a sunny and proud tone as he searches for him in the room.

“Junmyeon?”

“Here, Yixing.”

“Ah,” Their eyes meet -- and the patient smiles fondly. Like he’s been waiting. “There you are.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

The long week finally closes and Yixing is discharged.

Ten years may have passed and now lost but Yixing is Yixing. He is as polite and sweet and caring now as he was before the accident. He thanks the nurses and the doctors with flowers and chocolates, and despite the great pain he feels, he doesn’t utter a single syllable of complaint. To Junmyeon, seeing him smile and interact with people in the same comfortable and warm manner, deludes him into a state of forgetfulness. He’s Yixing again -- but in a wheelchair and a little beaten up. 

And he comforts himself quietly with this mirage -- until Yixing returns to his side and pronounces a polite,

“Okay, Junmyeon. We can go.”

The slight formality and rigidity behind the syllables strikes Junmyeon hard and he bites back tears, nodding, reiterating the doctor’s words to himself:  how lucky he is to have a husband to take home - and the prospect that lost memories are recoverable. 

But even that isn’t important. His own needs and fears have to come second for Yixing needs him now more than ever. 

“Let’s go.” Junmyeon gently guides Yixing out of the hospital, and as he wheels him out to the taxi, he can hear him slowly muttering the names of the hospital professionals he’s met - the name of the hospital - the name of the visitors he’s had. 

So far, even retaining short-term memories has been a tough struggle for Yixing. Fortunately, Junmyeon who he hasn’t yet forgotten (again) has been the constant voice of reassurance he sorely needs.

“You’re doing okay, Yixing.” Junmyeon murmurs, tenderly, hoping to comfort him as Yixing nods.

“Thanks, Junmyeon.”

But he continues to do so anyway, and when he finally gets it all right -- fourth time lucky --  he is visibly proud and Junmyeon rewards him with a loving smile.

It’s odd he thinks. He doesn’t really know how to respond to it -- to any of it.

And the further away from the hospital they get, the more of the initial shock he’s processed through wears away. Junmyeon finds himself staring out of his own window, a blankness in his eyes, as he wonders where this leaves them now.

Yixing has been at his side, as his primary source of support, for so long. Junmyeon has never been alone like this before and the new and warped reality that has been presented before him instills a sense of terror which threatens to claw at his every thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

“Sorry for the mess, Yixing. Or rather the lack of it. The lack of _stuff_. We’ve only just moved in so a lot of our furniture is still being shipped in from here and there.” 

They had been too busy to patch up their home properly as they had initially planned when they first bought the property. Junmyeon is a little embarrassed of this but he has successfully managed to organise a room in the downstairs area -- the living room where the sunshine is most prominent.

Fortunately, Yixing seems pleased by their home. He smiles as he enters the pseudo-bedroom which Junmyeon has tirelessly endeavoured to cover with his favourite things - comfy cushions, his stereo and guitar, even his beanbag. Alone, Junmyeon even managed to pull down the bed for the guestroom with the comfy mattress which Yixing had picked out himself many months ago.

“Um, I hope it’s okay.” Junmyeon murmurs, blinking at his face as helps guide Yixing off the chair, locking it in place.

They reach the bed after a few slow steps.

“It’s great!- ah, better than great.”

Lifting Yixing’s shoes off -- and swinging his legs over the bed -- Junmyeon holds his hands behind him as he watches the man settle in, head plopping comfortably onto the pillows. He angles himself towards the sunshine which generously greets him through the large glass windows: a feat of Yixing’s character which hasn’t changed.

He’s like a sunflower.

Watching him there amuses Junmyeon. He can’t remember the last time him and Yixing had slept in separate beds. His husband had always been unbelievably clingy -- in the fondest way. 

“So, let me know if you need anything. I’ll leave you to rest up. I’ll make dinner too.” 

Before making food, Junmyeon changes upstairs and finds that his own bed is cold and uncomfortable when he rests on it. He bites his lip as he smooths a tender hand over Yixing’s side of the bed, taking his pillow and inhaling his familiar scent from the fabric -- the mix of his shampoo and Yixing’s mint conditioner being the most prominent. 

The strange combination prompts him to chuckle as he embraces it tightly and hides his face within it.

 

When he returns downstairs, Yixing calls out a loud,

“Junmyeon?”

The other is quick to rush to the room, poking his head inside. “Yes?”

Yixing smiles instantly at the sight of him as he shakes his head.

“Nothing. I just wanted to know where you were.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon smiles slightly, “Don’t worry, the house isn’t that big so you can call me and I’m sure I’ll be able to hear you.” 

“Ah, okay.” The dark haired man then pauses, before he adds, “After you make dinner, can we eat together?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Somehow, Junmyeon feels like Yixing has underestimated just how much assistance he is going to need in real life -- as they will certainly have to do more than eat together now. But his heart is warmed by the other’s words and he lets that feeling rest there. It feels comfortingly distinct to the fears he’s had about moving back here alone.

“Whatever you need just say.” Junmyeon acknowledges.

 

 

 

They spend the rest of the day in Yixing’s room. Junmyeon sits at the foot of the bed and gives him a little glimpse of the history which he had inevitably lost. He mentions a few key historical events which have transpired: the current president, ongoing wars, the state of the economy -- and then after making him laugh a few times, Junmyeon launches into a more personal focus on their history. 

How they had known each other for ten years -- how Yixing now runs a soccer academy for local children whilst Junmyeon is in the latter stages of editing a novel which had already successfully secured a publishing contract.

Yixing’s eyes shine as he speaks. Junmyeon isn’t sure whether its carried by pride or an unshared sadness. He thinks that Yixing must listen to it all like a song from his childhood: memorable and impactful but _blurry_.

“I think I’ll sleep now,” murmurs Yixing after taking his medicine as Junmyeon helps him on the bed, “Thank you for today, Junmyeon.”

“It’s really no… problem.” Junmyeon nods, “Tomorrow, maybe we can talk some more.”

“I’d like that.” Yixing nods, as he reveals, “I’d like to know how I met you. How we fell in love.”

“Sure. Good night Yixing.”

“Good night.”

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

Breakfast is served early the next day. Yixing looks blankly at the host of dishes across him as Junmyeon serves it. He’s no cook, but today he makes an effort since he doesn’t exactly know what Yixing likes or dislikes yet.

“Please eat what you feel like eating.”

Yixing blinks up at him, “Junmyeon. This is amazing. I’m lucky, huh?”

The words cause Junmyeon to smile warmly. Lucky was one of Yixing’s favourite words. He always talked about luck and it’s always _lucky_. Misfortune just didn’t exist in Yixing’s vocabulary. If he didn’t get lucky, then it’s an opportunity. Negativity was a flightless force he easily ignores.

“Do you want to hear about how we met?” Junmyeon asks softly, setting across him, as Yixing nods from across the table.

“Yeah!”

“Okay.” Junmyeon smiles, as he drums long fingers on the table, “We met… at a club in my university. They were doing a students night and you were there meeting your friend - Chanyeol. The doctor? You flew in from China to see him and you happened to be there during karaoke hours…” 

 

_The music starts - slow, romantic and ballady. Everyone at the open mic session is chanting ‘Junmyeon! Junmyeon! Junmyeon!’. Eventually, the aforementioned Junmyeon gives up and takes the microphone._

_He begins to sing, a little shy but secretly keen, egged on by bemused whistles and whoops as his honey liquid voice lifts the room’s energy._

_Across the room, he catches the gaze of a bright-eyed young man with dark hair, dressed cool and casual in denim. ‘Woah,’ Yixing gapes, giving Chanyeol a shove as the med student downs a double vodka shot - ‘He’s amazing.’_

_‘Huh?’ Chanyeol narrows his eyes at the stage where Junmyeon is waving his hands, followed by the room, ‘Oh- yeah, that’s Junmyeon. He’s here all the time. He brings all his friends from drama club. He’s like their star vocalist.’_

_‘Ah.’ The song ends. Yixing leaps to his feet and whoops at a louder volume than everyone else. This catches everyone’s attention - including Junmyeon’s who passes him an awkward smile from the stage. He can’t really see him properly as it’s dark but he finds the surprise attention naturally endearing._

_‘He wants your number!’ Chanyeol hollers, shrieking with laughter as Yixing subsequently leans on him to shut him up._

_‘I’ll give it to you!’ someone else hollers, beginning to shout out digits as Junmyeon leaps across, shaking with embarrassment._

_Later on in the night, Junmyeon steps out of the club and gets knocked into by a drunk and singing Chanyeol._

_‘Oh- oh, so sorry.’ Yixing cries out, flushed as he wraps his arms tightly around his tall friend, ensuring that Junmyeon is protected from his limbs, ‘He’s had a bit too much- oh, oh, it’s you! Oh, hi!’_

_Junmyeon is wide-eyed before he smiles politely, ‘Hi! Is- he okay? Do you want me to get a cab for you?’_

_‘No, it’s okay. We’ll walk.’ Yixing nods, ‘He doesn’t live far-  how about you? You’re okay staying here alone?’_

_‘Oh, no- I’m waiting for my friend.’ Junmyeon responds._

_Chanyeol, always timely, slurs out a happy, ‘Is that J-J-unmyeon? Junmyeon. This is my friend, Zhang Yixing. He’s - he thinks you’re cuteeeee! Give him your number. Please-please.’_

_Yixing reddens as he smiles his dimpled smile and shakes his head. ‘Oh- don’t listen to him, sorry! Sorry he’s so embarrassing… oh my god….’_

_‘Uh,’ Junmyeon blinks._

_Minseok slips in from behind, also a little drunk, and grins as he affirms the situation. ‘Oh, hi! You’re the guy who wants Junmyeon’s number right! He’ll give it to you! Come on!’_

_Having had a little splutter of the cheap beer, Junmyeon finds himself easily obliging. He keeps his eyes on the nice-smelling dark haired young man as they exchange numbers, the depth of his dimples of particular interest._

_‘Uh, thanks. So we’ll be going then!’ Yixing calls out to him - and Minseok, as he drags Chanyeol along, ‘Have a nice night.’_

_The rest of the night Junmyeon drunkenly gushes about how handsome Yixing is but he doesn’t think much of it in the morning when he wakes up tired and achey._

_But then in the middle of the day, his phone buzzes and suddenly it all returns: all fluttery and warm, butterflies in the stomach, but tenfold._

 

 

 

 

“You message me the next day, thanking me for singing so nicely. I text you back. And then we just keep talking.” Junmyeon nods, smiling fondly, “We run into each other at another party- and then, after that. Well.”

Yixing blinks. “What?”

“We start to hang out properly. Just us two.” Junmyeon laughs, as the direction of his gaze rise thoughtfully, “You were there for two weeks. You paid to change your flight and stayed with me at my dorm for another five days-”

 

 

_Yixing laughs generously at every joke Junmyeon makes.  Even the bad ones. The really poor ones from the sides of the kid’s juice boxes Junmyeon secretly drinks to get through his campus ambassador jobs. His awkward habit -- brought on by a socially awkward core -- irritates everyone -- even Minseok who at best tolerates it. ‘My issue with this, is that I think he genuinely finds them funny.’ Minseok murmurs to him, as Yixing disappears to go to the bathroom, ‘Is he your soulmate? Have you found someone who can take…. this side of you?’_

_Junmyeon is tingly with joy. He hasn’t felt like this about anyone -- ever. Not that he’s had much luck with love. He’s never been as interested as others. But here it was different, because Yixing seems interested in him and that makes a nice change. Soulmate was a bit of a reach; but he couldn't say it wasn't a nice and romantic thought to entertain with someone as... well, perfect as the young man whom had kept his attention the past few weeks._

_‘There must be some catch with him though,’ muses Minseok, ‘You can’t be handsome and nice and not have something that instantly turns people off.’_

_‘He’s not from here.’ Junmyeon whispers, ‘He leaves for China. Tomorrow.’_

_‘Oh. Well you better get him to ask you out before then.’ Minseok shrugs, just as they hear Yixing trudge down the corridor again, ‘I think he will. He’s so into you I don’t think he even really realises I’m here.’_

_‘Sh, that’s not true.’ Junmyeon rolls his eyes as he clasps his fingers together, trying to hide the slight redness on his cheeks, ‘And… he won’t. He’s probably just here to play around.’_

_‘Hmm-kay,’ Minseok smiles, ‘But you owe me dinner if he does.’_

__

 

 

Junmyeon pauses, scratching the top of his head.

“Yixing you- ah.”

“What?”

“You asked me to be your boyfriend after that. Hours before you were off to fly back to China for an indefinite amount of time.”

Yixing laughs, bright eyes curved as Junmyeon chuckles too, recalling the proposal with a smile. It happened at the subway station with Yixing holding onto his luggage, visibly restless, as Junmyeon offered him the instructions for how to get to the airport.

_’Go out with me.’ Yixing clamps his bottom lip, dimples deep, as he adds, ‘I really like you, Junmyeon.’_

_Junmyeon’s jaw goes slack. ‘Huh?’_

 

 

“So you said no.” Yixing guesses.

“I definitely said no,” Junmyeon recalls, laughing again as he remembers how Yixing had affectionately whined at him after, muttering nonsense about long-distance relationships and the _price he’d pay for true love_.

 

 

_Thrusting the subway map at his face, Junmyeon angles his face away, desperate not to show how furiously he’s blushing and the concerningly violent way his heart is beating._

_‘Come on, Junmyeoooon.’_

_‘It won’t work. You’ll forget about me. Two hours into your flight.’_

_‘I can’t.’ Yixing affirms, snatching the map away, and stepping towards him in a move so wonderfully cinematic that it momentarily causes Junmyeon’s brain to shortcircuit, ‘And you know you won’t forget me either. So take a chance.’_

_Junmyeon exhales shakily, laughing. ‘This is… not how this works. You need…. Dating…’ The words falter at the sheer intensity of Yixing’s gaze._

_‘Make it a maybe, at least.’ Yixing urges, lightly brushing his fringe with soft fingers._

_‘Fine,’ Junmyeon whispers, breathless as he nods, ‘Maybe.’_

__

 

 

He’d always been strangely poetic like that. A natural romantic. Using words in a way which even as a writer, Junmyeon has never been able to quite emulate. He loves like a poet too; beautifully and absolutely.

Junmyeon ponders on the story more as he continues. “You went back to China. We stayed in touch- but it was hard because things weren’t so easy in your home. So I told you that whilst you were away, we should just stay as friends. But that didn’t last long obviously. We talked so much and at one point, you said you loved me and that was that.”

“Did I come see you a lot?” Yixing asks curiously, a dreamy smile on his lips. 

“As often as you could, on holidays. Not enough. But we found ways to stay in touch.” Junmyeon says, nodding his head, “And it was just back-and-forth for a while. It was hard at times, missing you, and seeing other people walk around with their other halves. I didn’t have that. But knowing you missed me too. We shared that and it made it more meaningful when we did meet.”

Their gazes meet. Junmyeon swallows thickly as he adds, 

“At the time, I didn’t really understand why you took such an interest in me. I didn’t have much like you did. I was just normal. But I really loved you-- probably even before you admitted it to me--”

Suddenly Junmyeon’s phone rings, making him jump and halting the conversation at an untimely moment.

“It’s the hospital.” He nods as he politely excuses himself.

Yixing nods, and he watches Junmyeon leave the room.

When he comes back, Yixing has finished his breakfast. He’s eaten a lot of it which delights Junmyeon who had fussed over the entire morning.

“It must be odd for you. Going through it all again like this.” Yixing comments, as Junmyeon takes his first proper bite of his food. 

“It is,” Junmyeon murmurs, before adding, “But when you’ve been together so long, it’s always nice to remember how it all started.”

“It’s a beautiful story.” Yixing murmurs, as he adds, “Our story.”

“It really is.” Junmyeon agrees, “I was… lucky to have met you.”

When Yixing echoes his words with a gentle, “Me too” - Junmyeon swears his heart _floats_ and even though he knows he can’t mean it in the way he hopes, it’s something, and he clings to it like a lifeboat.

 

 

 

As the first week together in recovery slides on, each one is equipped with hours whereby Junmyeon takes Yixing further into the memories he longed to remember, bringing with it a stronger determination to restore his memories.

It is around that time that Junmyeon finds a box he hasn’t yet checked in the spare room where he has stored all of their wedding items stacked up and unlabelled.

DVDs. Yixing liked shooting videos more than anything in the world and he took so many of them that Junmyeon wonders if there was anything vivid in his memory that Yixing and his trusty camera hadn’t been able to document.

 

 

 

He practically stumbles into Yixing’s room later on in the day, box at hand and laptop in the other.

“Maybe watching some of these will help you.” Junmyeon suggests helpfully, as Yixing sits up and watches him.

The first DVD is slotted in. Yixing appears. He’s on a holiday of sorts. He’s younger again -- probably around the same age as when they first met. He’s got longer hair, a more refined tan from travelling, and trousers that sagged ever so slightly past his ankles.

“Oh.” Yixing grins up at him, “Yes, videos. I like these.”

“Maybe, they’ll help. I don’t know.”

Junmyeon is casual but he can’t hide the hope behind his action as he watches a few with Yixing, revelling in his husband’s kind face and never ceasing energetic nature.

He _loves_ life. More than anyone else he knows.

This is why he had fallen in love with Yixing so easily. His life, in comparison, had been steeped in the greying confines of practicality, reality, _stability_ \-- but with Yixing, he could _dream_ and there weren’t many people like him.

So, although Junmyeon is unsure whether it will help in the long-term, he notes that Yixing enjoys watching them, so he leaves him to it. He walks away, recognising the growing desperation in his heart to do all that he can to make sure that Yixing gets what he needs and they can finally get back to the happy and peaceful future which had once been at their feet.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

It amazes Junmyeon how quickly Yixing recovers. But it doesn’t surprise him. His husband was an athlete in many ways - having specialised in multiple sports during his university career and beyond, now combined with his job running a local soccer academy. 

Here he was, making his husband prouder than ever, and getting through the physical therapy like a trooper. 

Progress on the memory side is a little slower. Yixing remains frequently forgetful with his short-term memory still impacted by the head injury. This requirs Junmyeon to be at his side most of the time, ensuring to clarify anything that may cause confusion or stress: from complex things like the progress of his treatment to simpler things like the exact date and time.

He’s also prone to strange mood swings, now less capable of controlling them and assessing their triggers. But Junmyeon read up on all such shifts and changes, so he manages them, focusing on soothing and providing guidance.

Fortunately, Junmyeon’s principal workplace was home so therefore he was lucky for he could complete his work with Yixing in the adjacent room. With time he managed to create a schedule for them to follow, completing his chores all around Yixing’s rigid treatment and therapy hours. He devotes himself to it fully, showing his thorough commitment to promoting his husband’s recovery. 

 

 

 

With each day that passes, the long-term memories remain lost and the chances of them returning slims down further. 

Fortunately, having Yixing with him makes it all easier. Seeing him alive and his unrelenting will to get better; Junmyeon knows just how lucky he is.

Yixing never stops smiling even when he knows Junmyeon is forcing it. In fact, Yixing probably knows that he might be the only element keeping Junmyeon together at this point for when he is alone, in their bed, his husband frays and shivers, feeling _weak_.

So Yixing smiles through everything.

And it’s a smile that is natural, and familiar, and demands no further need for memories other than the ones presented before him. 

 

 

 

It’s late in the afternoon. The sun is still high, basking the living room in a gorgeous spring glow. Junmyeon waves goodbye to the delivery man and returns to the house where he observes the sight of Yixing relaxing in the living room with a fond smile. 

“How are you feeling? Still got a headache?” Junmyeon asks as he passes Yixing’s room, a large box in his arms, “I can go call your doctor if you want--”

“No, I’m okay.” Yixing turns to him, smiling. “Junmyeon-ah, that looks heavy. What’s inside?”

“Ah.” 

Wedding stuff. They had only been married three months ago and therefore their new address was still getting wedding gifts from people. Junmyeon reasoned that the box in his arms was likely to be a kitchen-related electronic: a toaster or a fancy rice cooker. Their friends had always been generous to the happy couple. 

“Just doing some cleaning.” Junmyeon manages a smile. He has been keeping the wedding related objects in the spare room upstairs. He told himself that it was a way not to confuse Yixing. They would take it a day at a time. It was best not to shower him in all the marital memorabilia he certainly would not remember. 

The road to recovery needed to start somewhere solid. And that somewhere began on the images playing on the laptop on Yixing’s lap.

“Oh,” Yixing smiles again as he gestures towards the screen across him, “I’m watching my videos right now. I haven’t seen you yet. Just Chanyeol. I’m skiing…”

It amuses Junmyeon how he speaks of the memories like he’s watching a movie of someone else’s life. He reasons that it must feel a little like that. 

“Ah, yeah. I’m in that one. But I didn’t ski so you’ll probably find me towards the end.” 

“Really? Okay! I’ll look forward to it.”

The doctor told Junmyeon during their early consultations that memory loss wasn’t easily resolved by any existing therapy. This meant that Junmyeon couldn’t just pull the lost memories back into the light by shining them on Yixing like this. But he didn’t know what else to do? And he had to do something. He had to remind Yixing that he wanted him to remember; that he believed that he _could_.

He also wanted Yixing to know that it was worth remembering it all. 

All their memories, all that _love_ \-- it had been more than enough for them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later in the night when the moonlight replaced the sun, Junmyeon finds himself at the foot of Yixing’s bed.  Across him are the old letters he’d kept from their early correspondences. He’d picked the best of the best: old love letters, christmas cards, even the occasional snappy pop-up card because Junmyeon went through short periods of holiday craft obsessions.

“We wrote to each other a lot whilst you were in China.” Junmyeon runs a fingers over the paper, delicate, as he blinked the emotion away from his gaze, “If videos were your way of keeping our memories, then writing to you was mine.”

Yixing holds one to the light, squinting. He reads a line out thoughtfully - 

_‘Do you feel angry, Junmyeon? Do you feel anger at them? Don’t feel anger. I don’t want you to have anger in your heart. I love you. Keep love in your heart for me…’_

 

When he lowers the paper, Junmyeon’s tears are a little harder to conceal. He removes his gaze, as his fingers retract and return to his lap.

“I suppose these are about my parents.” Yixing murmurs, reaching across to his side and offering the man across him a tissue. 

Junmyeon chuckles as he takes it from him. “Yeah,” he nods, “They weren’t exactly the most supportive of us being together. There was a time when it became too much and I told you that I wanted to end it.”

“And then?”

“You moved here.” Junmyeon exhales, withholding a fresh set of tears again as he smiles, “You moved here with a rucksack of clothes and a passport. You barely warned me. You just said, _I’m coming. I’m finally coming. Don’t be sad anymore_....”

Junmyeon then thumbs through the pile of paper and finds the relevant letter. He finds it easily, having read through it hundreds of times before, recalling the unique shade of green paper it had been written on.

“Last line.” Junmyeon guides.

Yixing reads it out wistfully.

 

 _‘Does Minseok still have a spare room? I’m on my way, Junmyeonnie! Whooosh! Do you hear that? That is my airplane! I’m almost there, almost there with you. Can you make me dinner? Can we eat together? You must miss me. I am almost at your doorstep._ ’

The memory is ghostly for Junmyeon. He can remember that day so clearly. The day Yixing materialised into more than just a face on a screen -- or a name on a letter -- and appeared at his doorstep, every bit as wonderful and loving as when he last saw him.

Distance easily breeds fear. But for Junmyeon and Yixing, it reinforced _steel_. And to finally be together on that day, Junmyeon wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so overwhelmed with happiness.

 

_‘Hi.’ Yixing practically picks the stunned Junmyeon up as the other trembles, hands falling to hold the other’s face as his feet land back on the ground._

_‘Hi?’ Junmyeon manages, in complete shock._

_‘How long has it been, Junmyeonnie? Two years? You’ve forgotten me already?’_

_Junmyeon frowns. He looks behind him, notices the lone rucksack forgotten on the floor. So it’s real. He really came._

_‘Of course not.’ He exhales, eyes fluttering as he reaches up and touches the top of Yixing’s head, ‘You really cut your hair.’_

_And then Junmyeon seizes him for a long and flustered kiss, full of want and ache, and time melts away._

 

 

 

When he meets Yixing’s gaze again, his eyes are misty. He dabs them with the tissue as he blurts out an amused,

“How can you just listen to all of this like that? Doesn’t it scare you? Knowing that you’re… married? It must seem so _sudden_.”

Yixing tilts his head as he laughs. “It’s a little strange,” he admits, “But I always imagined I’d marry someone like you, so it doesn’t scare me.”

Junmyeon grins shyly. “You mean poor and… messy.” 

“No,” contests Yixing, “Kind-hearted and devoted.”

Oh.

The affection behind the words causes Junmyeon’s chest to ache lovingly. Biting back the urge to say it - to scream it _I love you, I love you, I love you so much_ \- he opts instead to reach across and wrap his arms around Yixing’s shoulders, revelling in the delicate embrace.

Braving the contact, Junmyeon then presses a kiss to Yixing’s temple as he holds back the tears for the hundredth time that day alone.

He misses it. The kisses and hugs - all of it. Today particularly, after he found the letters in the spare room and was reminded of just how much Yixing loved him.

Junmyeon didn’t have _anything_ to give him -- but Yixing still left and lived a life with him.

Who had such luck?

“It must be hard on you, Junmyeon-ah.” Yixing whispers as he lightly places a hand on Junmyeon’s back, his fingers making absent but familiar circles on the fabric, “Thank you for caring for me.”

The other hiccups as he replies. “You’re my husband, of c-course I’ll take care of you.”

The words slip out and when Yixing delays a response, Junmyeon’s insides twist. But he does reply, and he does so as he takes his hand and rests it comfortingly on the back of Junmyeon’s neck,

“I’m so lucky to have you as a husband.”

A laugh slips from Junmyeon’s lips  -- coupled by tears, _of course_ \-- as they remain in the embrace for a few more minutes, residing in the warmth of the contact and the tender recognition of how easily they moulded to each other.

Heartbeat to heartbeat.

 

 

 

 

 

Similar sessions of storytelling and reminiscing dictated the next few weeks, enabling them to pass much quicker. Junmyeon finds himself more and more amazed by the positive trajectory of Yixing’s recovery. It is marked and surprises even those at the hospital.

“This is all you, Junmyeon.” His doctor gushes, as Yixing nods enthusiastically from beside him, “You are caring for him well.”

“He’s an angel.” Yixing affirms as he takes Junmyeon’s hand and entwines their fingers together.

Junmyeon glances at him and manages to smile lightly, half-expecting for Yixing to take his hand and kiss it like he used to. 

He doesn’t. But it’s a start.

He squeezes the hand tightly, remembering then how Yixing had actually kissed him that morning on the cheek. How his inner thoughts had fluttered with the act; warmth migrating to the site of the touch just like it used to.

“We’re getting through it together, doc.” Junmyeon says, as the doctor types his notes in and nods.

“It’s the only -- and best -- way with these things.” 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Two and a half months pass. Junmyeon knows two and half months have passed because the news anchor on the television mentions a terrible storm which passed two and half months ago causing havoc on the other side of the world. This is all he knows. Most of his life is centered on Yixing now and he doesn’t have much time for the rest of the world and its problems.

His commitment appears to be working wonders at least. Yixing completes his therapy and physically recovers from the brunt of his injuries, months quicker than expected, and he is even able to properly walk again. 

To celebrate this feat, Junmyeon takes Yixing to their favourite date place. A Chinese restaurant of all places: family-ran, a little quirky, great tea.

They arrive and the place is unsurprisingly empty. It nearly always was on weekdays. Unfortunately, the usual owner isn’t there which means that they are seated by a waitress who has no recognition of just how profound this place was for the two young men. Admittedly, an absence that the other man also now carries.

“The noodles are nice here,” comments Junmyeon as he watches Yixing politely greet their waitress who offers them a menu each.

“This place is familiar.” Yixing nods, as he opens the menu excitedly.

“Yeah?” Junmyeon smiles, “We used to eat here a lot because our apartment with Minseok was right across the road.” He points at it. The three-bedroomed dump they endured for far too many years -- infested by all the wonderful things one would associate with the city. “You then worked here part-time for a few months when you first moved.” 

“As a waiter?”

“Delivery boy.” Junmyeon chuckles affectionately, recalling the amount of times he’d had to run down the three flights of stairs from their apartment, across the road, _almost_ getting run over, just to bring Yixing the hat which was the part of the uniform he always conveniently forgot.

“I got my first job after university. It was working in sales for this company. I _hated_ it. But it was a good stint and everyone told me to stick with it. I did because I wanted to have money and live in the city -- with you. You were working here to pay for rent whilst looking for jobs in schools because you wanted to use your degree and teach….”

Yixing nods, sipping the cup across him after tea was poured into it.

“Everyone in the city just gets by.” Junmyeon nods, glancing out of the window as he speaks, “It’s a really lonely place to be. But I had _you_ \-- so I never wanted to be anywhere else…” 

 

_Today, was a rare free day together. And the pair were taking full advantage of it, with all of the day blocked out for all the activities that they had been putting off because of time and energy constraints from their respective jobs._

_The two spot their roommate passing by the front of the restaurant and catch his attention by waving their hands at him. Minseok grins and enters the restaurant. His job as a design intern warrants him the freedom to wander most of the day. So he tended to go on long walks around the city, even around their boring old block._

_‘You two are gross,’ Minseok teases, as Yixing spoons a mouthful of rice into Junmyeon’s mouth, who playfully puffs out his cheeks._

_‘Minseok, have lunch!’ Yixing calls out to him, ‘It’s my payday today. I’ll treat you.’_

_‘Bro, you’re too poor to be treating anyone- that’s not your boyfriend.’ Minseok retorts, as he stands by their table and talks a little about his day, touched by the sight of the young lovers so happy._

_When Minseok leaves, Yixing and Junmyeon quickly finish their lunch. They exit and walk side-by-side, hand-in-hand, on the pavement. The air is fresh and spring-like, despite it being the middle of autumn._

_‘You want to go cycling later?’ Yixing smiles at him, ‘Or try those paddleboats at the lake?’_

_‘I just want to sleep.’ Junmyeon rests his head on Yixing’s shoulder, exhaling a long breath._

_Yixing squeezes his hand. ‘What’s up?’_

_‘Working is hard. I keep telling myself it will get better but it just tires me out,’ huffs his boyfriend as his eyes flicker shut, weary, ‘Yixing-ah, save me. If I have to read out another pricing list for a chemical compound, I am going to lose it….’_

_Yixing looks at him and frowns. ‘Okay.’ He nods, as he nudges him, ‘Quit.’_

_Junmyeon laughs, eyes still closed. ‘I can’t just quit, fool. I need the money.’ He shrugs, ‘Just ignore me. What did you want to do? Cycling?’_

_‘No, no,’ hushes Yixing as he releases Junmyeon’s hand, choosing to wrap an arm around his waist, ‘I’m serious. If you want to quit, quit. There’s lots of other jobs. I don’t want you to be miserable.’_

_‘Misery is a part of life.’ Junmyeon says poetically, as Yixing laughs and presses his lips to his in a surprisingly chaste kiss._

_‘No,’ he murmurs, ‘It doesn’t have to be.’_

_Tears splash onto Junmyeon’s cheeks, the immediacy of their appearance stunning even him. They fall unashamedly, all the pent up stress suddenly dissolving as the other holds his face with warm caring hands,_

_‘It’s happiness.’ Yixing kisses his forehead, ‘Happiness is a part of life. Life should be happy, Junmyeonnie. Especially for you.’_

_‘I am happy. Just tired.’_

_‘You won’t be there forever.’ Yixing smiles broadly, ‘I promise.’_

_And then he kisses his hand in a familiar routine_

__

They leave the restaurant with the promise that they will return soon. Yixing holds Junmyeon’s hand, a natural action now, as they cross the road to his car. 

“So it was here where we lived for--” Yixing turns to Junmyeon as they stand on the pavement across their old apartment.

It’s been converted to much nicer accommodation now. But the old balcony still remains: probably still infested by crows. 

“Three and a half years.” Junmyeon answers, “Minseok knew the landlord so our rent was dirt cheap. It was a godsend… because we needed all the money to save up.”

“For our wedding.” Yixing affirms.

 _Our future_. Junmyeon quietly corrects before he outwardly nods, allowing the thought to slip away with a simple breath.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite the significance of that recollection, Junmyeon find that an even greater one occurs later that week.

It happens whilst he is half asleep alone in his bed and he hears Yixing enter the bedroom. It doesn’t strike him as strange, for ever since Yixing recovered his abilities to walk, he has been roaming the house more and more. 

“Junmyeon-ah,” he whispers, “I think I remember something.” 

Junmyeon sits up immediately and watches his shadow as it moves towards one of the books in the large bookshelf across the room and he pulls out an item.

“It’s the safe key you’ve been looking for.” 

He had been looking for it for weeks. Junmyeon smiles and laughs as Yixing then sits on the bed and hands it to him. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Junmyeon squints as he then places the key on the bedside table, switching the lamplight on in the process, “Well done. That’s great…” 

Yixing is already in bedclothes. He bites his bottom lip before speaking.

“Junmyeon-ah?” He murmurs after a moment, “Can I sleep here tonight?”

The words cause the other to double-take. Junmyeon looks at him gingerly, patting down the pillows behind him and nodding frantically, 

“Sure. Sure of course.”

Yixing smiles widely and carefully swings himself over the bed as he then rests his head on the pillow. The bed isn’t so big that there was a huge space allocated between them. In fact, once they adjust, they are basically side-by-side, touching. 

“Good night, Junmyeon-ah.” Yixing hums.

“Good night.” Junmyeon responds, heart thudding hard in his chest as he naturally turns away and scrunches the pillowcase.

A few silent seconds pass.

“Junmyeon-ah, can I hug you?”

This is even more surprising. Tears immediately form in Junmyeon’s eyes as he murmurs,

“ _Sure_.”

At the weight of his arm over him, Junmyeon flinches first— but as he feels Yixing edge and press their bodies closer, his own responds with the same familiar comfort it has learned over many years of sharing a bed with his husband. Not all as comfortable as this one. He shuts his eyes and breathes through it, revelling in being _touched_ and comforted, and he smiles properly for the first time in a long time.

 

 

 

Junmyeon wakes up first the following morning. He rolls over and observes Yixing as he sleeps. In his head, he is hit by a series of sudden and immediate flashes of the many mornings they had spent together as a couple. Junmyeon wakes up first in 90% of his memories. And he can’t remember the last time he watched Yixing like this -- cute and quiet, his dark hair tossed over his face as he quietly dozes with the occasional hum and snore. Normally, he just slips out, yawning, keen not to disturb him -- probably thinking about his book and nothing else.

It’s nice, Junmyeon thinks. Being able to appreciate him like this again. 

His admiring is stunted as Yixing’s eyes flutter open.

Junmyeon inhales sharply as Yixing then reaches across and kisses him on the forehead, with only one eye open. He stills, his own eyes crossing as Yixing laughs at the silliness of the expression.

“Good morning, you.” Yixing manages, with a deep yawn, eyes closing again.

“Good morning, you.” Junmyeon echoes, as he resists the urge to touch Yixing’s hair -- his lips -- _everything_. “I’ll make breakfast.”

 

 

 

 

They sleep in the same bed from that night onwards. Yixing is as clingy as he was before the accident and Junmyeon indulges him practically as much as he used to -- maybe more. Touches don’t go further than the innocent and soft kisses good night - and their counterpart good morning pecks. For that, Junmyeon feels strangely grateful and equally as frustrated.

If the pre-accident Yixing recognised that he had more than an hour in bed with Junmyeon, the latter wouldn’t be able to leave it.

He doesn’t pressure him on it though. He doesn’t wish to. For no matter how Junmyeon may fall into his tender delusions of domesticity, he knows that this Yixing wasn’t the Yixing he married. He was recognisable enough; but not _him_. He was bright and sprightly but -- his thoughts and manners were softer and younger and not yet bruised by the rougher edges of adulthood. 

The edges which they had endured together and subsequently emerged from stronger. 

 

 

-

 

This distinction would become clear to Junmyeon on the day he decides to go for his morning jog and finds Yixing missing from home. He had found him after an hour of panicked wandering in the woods behind their house: a content figure peacefully resting on a large log, palms resting on the wood.

“Yixing!” Junmyeon scolds him, face flushed as he pants, “Why did you leave the house? I thought I was going to have to call the police --”

“Sorry,” Yixing looks visibly shaken by his state as he reaches forward, “Sorry Junmyeon -- I just wanted to find --”

“No!” Junmyeon cries out, tone embittered with anger, “You can’t do that! Imagine if it rained? You would’ve been stuck out here! You could’ve gotten sick again! It might have taken hours!”

He looks away, _trembling_. Behind him, he hears a distant-- 

“I’m not some kid, Junmyeon.”

“No?” He whips around, eyes flashing -- words slipping through before he fully vets the venom behind them, “Then why is it that I have to watch and worry over you like this?”

“Nobody is asking _you_ to take care of me!” 

The uncharacteristic hitch of hurt in Yixing’s voice shakes Junmyeon out of his stupor. 

His lips part, an apology lingers, but the other simply brushes past, not handing him the opportunity.

“Let’s just go back.”

 

The damage is done by then. Yixing does not speak to him on the walk back. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They rarely fought. When they did, it was frequently over trivial things or as an outlet for unrelated outward stresses. Their dynamic meant that fights rarely lasted when they did happen. Yixing was direct and rarely sulked -- whilst Junmyeon hated withdrawing so tended to encourage things to be discussed openly. This balance of character meant any sort of animosity was resolved quickly -- often with kisses and hugs and home cooked meals.

After a few hours of radio silence, Junmyeon finds himself stepping into the spare room where he finds Yixing asleep. On the laptop across him plays old vacation tapes. They had been clips from his and Yixing’s first ever holiday -- a cheap weekend away to a beach resort outside the city.

Palms-- something.

“Junmyeon-ah?”

Yixing lifts an eyelid. Junmyeon holds the hot cup of tea in his hands as he meets his gaze.

“Hi. Sorry. I came in here to give you this.” Junmyeon greets timidly. 

“Sorry, Junmyeon-ah.” Sleepily, Yixing bats a hand in the air until it lands on Junmyeon’s arm and he squeezes it gently, “Sorry I made you so angry earlier. I really didn’t mean to. I just wanted to find you.”

The sweetness and the genuineness of his tone causes Junmyeon to chuckle softly. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, as he reaches out and tentatively smoothes his fingers over the crown of Yixing’s head -- delicate, as he traces the fresh scars from the accident, “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m sorry for being so confrontational. I just got scared when I didn’t see you.”

“I know.” Yixing retorts, lips curving into a smile, “That’s cute, actually.”

Junmyeon chuckles as his eyes rest on where Yixing was holding him. 

“I’m still a bit sleepy. We’ll talk more later, OK.” 

There, a half-awake Yixing would wrap his fingers around Junmyeon’s hand and press a soft but solid kiss on the knuckles. 

Just like he used to.

He must have seen it on a video, Junmyeon thinks, face burning, as he returns his hand to the hot cup of tea.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

In the handful of months that pass since the accident, Yixing intensively receives counselling from the hospital in order to improve and continually test the progress of his memory recovery. The most recent results were declared as inconclusive and would come as a stunning knock to Junmyeon who finds himself stood outside at the hospital after the news, the heaviest weight in his chest. All the hopelessness he had been battling since the accident has returned with a vengeance: all-consuming and _cold_.

“I just really thought he was really remembering stuff, you know?” Junmyeon murmurs, glancing at Chanyeol who has opted to spend his break consoling his distressed friend, “It _feels_ like that some days. The way he looks at me. It’s the same way.” 

“You’re talking like he’s a completely different person,” muses Chanyeol, “He’s still the same Yixing, Junmyeon.”

“He’s not though.” Junmyeon murmurs, inhaling sharply as he shakes his head, “The Yixing I married went through so _much_ with me. The Yixing -- my Yixing -- he has lived through all of our sunny and rainy days. He knows why things are the way that they are with us. This is the life I promised him and I feel like I’ve cheated him somehow. I don’t know how I can just carry on and pretend like things are the same when they aren’t. And I _miss_ him. I miss him so much…”

Chanyeol offers him a long hug.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t remember me, Chanyeol.” Junmyeon sobs unabashedly into his friend’s shoulder, “I look at him and I can’t help but l--love him. But I know he can’t love me the same way. And he can’t, not unless he remembers.” 

“Be strong, Junmyeon-ah.” Chanyeol answers, “Be hopeful.”

“I’m trying so _hard_.”

“I know, I know.”

 

 

 

 

 

Yixing appears after completing his brief visit to his physical therapist. He finds Junmyeon in the same teary state and immediately reaches out to him, arms open, relieving the doctor of his sobbing husband.

“Junmyeon-ah,” His eyes are wide with concern, “What happened?”

“Nothing-- nothing,” hums Junmyeon, embracing him back, “It was okay?” 

“Yep.” Yixing presses his cheek against the side of Junmyeon’s head tenderly, swaying on his heel slightly, as he squeezes him, “All good.”

“Good.” Junmyeon echoes, heart lighter, as they finally part, and they both offer Chanyeol a gracious wave goodbye. 

 

 

 

 _he already loves you, you see that right?_

The text from Chanyeol appears on Junmyeon’s phone just seconds before he restarts the engine at the car parking lot.

Another quickly follows-- 

_don’t overthink this.  
just love him junmyeon ♡ _

 

 

 

 

 

After the hospital, Junmyeon lets Yixing pick where they go next. They had been going out together a lot recently -- all the usual haunts, the park, the restaurant, the mall. They had even paid a visit to Yixing’s workplace where the academy was still up-and-running with Yixing’s business partner shouldering most of the responsibilities whilst Yixing recovers. 

The temperature of the day was mild and Yixing naturally selects the park from his list of favourites, having developed a genuine affinity with the place. He liked the greenery, the benches, and the lake where he would coo at the ducks -- just like he used to.

“Can we go on one of those?” Yixing points at the fleet of huge yellow paddleboats as they cross from one end of the park to the other.

Junmyeon blinks at him before nodding. 

“Okay.”

They hire the largest paddleboat and Junmyeon does most of the legwork despite Yixing showing the most excitement. 

“This is familiar.” Yixing murmurs, peering over the edge of the boat and into the mossy water, “Did I fall in?”

“Once.” Junmyeon murmurs, as he smiles teasingly, “Maybe twice.” 

“I bet you pushed me.” Yixing glances at him, narrowing his eyes in accusation, “Which one was it? First or second time?”

“You pushed me first,” pleads Junmyeon, as he guides them under the rocky bridge, where Yixing uses the momentary shelter of darkness to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

It’s an instant shot of warmth to Junmyeon’s heart. When they emerge under the canopy of trees, with the tenderness of the afternoon sun hovering over them, Junmyeon finds himself taking Yixing’s hand into his own. He sighs, contented, as he murmurs,

“Yixing, what do you think about going on vacation together?” 

It’s been on his mind ever since he observed that Yixing enjoyed re-watching the vacation clips most of all. The sight of the sandy beach, and the blurry shots Yixing took of gulls and Junmyeon singing childhood songs about ice cream and frozen fruits -- 

“Vacation?” gapes the other excitedly, “Really?” 

Junmyeon nods, smiling. “We spend too much time at home. We can drive down to the coast for a weekend.”

“Sounds great.” 

 

 

The date for their vacation is pinned to the front of Yixing’s laptop in the form of an on-screen sticky note. 

Junmyeon recalls the fond display he witnesses one afternoon, whereby Yixing -- equipped with headphones -- is sat on the living room chair, most likely scribbling something down for his therapy session, humming the childhood songs from the holiday clips.

 

As the holiday edged closer, there came the incessant counting down. Often delivered at the strangest times -- halfway through dinner -- in a public place, in a line for coffee -- on a jog, breathless and dizzy. 

“Only two weeks left, Junmyeon-ah!” 

“Ten days left! Junmyeon-ah!” 

“Five days, wooooooo!”

 

 

 

And then, with their noses touching, Yixing whispers a terrifically endearing, 

“ _It’s tomorrow!_ ”

Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open, and he smiles naturally at the sight of Yixing peeking through the dark fringe of hair over his eyes.

“Are you excited too?” Yixing asks.

“Of course!”

“Good. I want you to eat and swim a lot.” 

Yixing then wraps an arm over him, squishing his face playfully into the curve of Junmyeon’s neck who responds with a laugh, withdrawing his limbs inside, 

“It’s you, who needs the vacation-time, Junmyeon-ah. Not me.” He insists, as he coddles into him, chuckling warmly --

“ _Psh._ ”

“I want you to be happy, happy, _happy_ ….”

The almost sing-song quality to it causes Junmyeon to freeze, recalling how happiness -- alongside luck -- had been Yixing’s favourite words.

He softens after a moment, resisting the urge to laugh being uncertain of exactly what warrants it as he responds with,

 

“You too, Yixing. I want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy,” Yixing retorts, as his hand rests on Junmyeon’s cheek -- each element of the scene almost a direct and gentle reflection of the past -- “I am always happy.”

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

The beachside resort is beautiful -- bigger and better developed now than Junmyeon remembers and Yixing remains as giddy from excitement. It didn’t wane -- not from last night, through the four hour drive over, and only found room to amplify now that they were here. They trudge down from the parking area to the reception of the seaside hotel together: one room, one bed, two breakfasts, two nights. 

They don’t waste time. Bags were dropped off messily at the hotel room, toilet break -- necessary outfit changes -- and down to the coast they migrated.

Minutes after introducing him to the sea, Yixing is already curling his toes in the wet sand, the cool wind blowing through the soft fabric of his pale blue shirt.

“You’re okay with swimming?” Junmyeon asks him, as he follows him along the sand. His arms are folded across his chest, still trying to get accustomed to the force of the breeze.

“Can’t remember.” Yixing jokes, as he winces at the sudden sight of _crabs_ scuttling along the ground.

This response is familiar. Later on, after some illicit digging, Junmyeon dips down into one of the readymade holes and catches one into his hand. He approaches Yixing and releases it -- earning a yell, a whine, and a shudder.

 

“Hey!” 

 

“I’m sorry it’s so fun-- _aaaaah!_ ”

 

Before Junmyeon knows it, his feet are off the ground and Yixing is hauling him by the waist into the ocean. His thin legs lift easily into the air -- “Yixing-- no! No! You might-- ha! -- hurt!” All of his cries for help would dissolve into breathy laughs as they waded into the cool waters together.

He expects him to throw him inside but Yixing doesn’t. Instead, he releases him gently into the ocean, allowing the waves to move peacefully across them. Yixing drifts with the water, a natural swimmer--  beaming, as he entwines their fingers together.

“I think I can swim, Junmyeon-ah.”

Junmyeon watches him float up and down, the images -- the memories of his previous trip flickering like old lights and merging with this one. He thinks Yixing is so _beautiful_ like this. The water on his skin makes him glow -- and coupled with the sunshine, every part of him just _gleams_.

Even the scars.

He’s always been handsome of course: face _and_ body. But it had to be said, that such contemplations had taken a backseat for a while -- and now they were present, and real, and all he wanted to do was admire him like this. Like he used to.

“Go on then.” Junmyeon challenges as he watches him swim away. 

When Yixing returns, he sneaks up on Junmyeon, emerging right across him from the depth. Deep brown eyes blinking away his tears, Junmyeon doesn’t hesitate as he takes Yixing’s face into his trembling hands and connects their lips into a consciously gentle but familiar kiss.

The cloud of need dissolves instantly at the contact and Junmyeon pales, finding calm only through the warm smile that Yixing offers him as he beams and sinks into the water again, shouting out a few energetic encouragements for Junmyeon to join him.

Junmyeon does, but his mind spins, uncertain what exactly this meant now.

 

 

 

 

The action would not be forgotten. In the night, Yixing emerges from the bathroom after a quick shower and takes a stunned pyjama-wearing Junmyeon into his arms. 

He says nothing as Junmyeon rests his finger on his lip and he leans forward and kisses him again, a direct reflection of the afternoon’s kiss. Gentle; and thoughtful once more. The rhythm would press on, shy and passive, until Junmyeon’s lips finally part, inviting Yixing to deepen the contact. 

Of course he doesn’t hesitate.

Yixing’s arms slide easily around Junmyeon’s waist, his fingers scrunching the fabric -- teasing the hot skin -- as his tongue expertly licks the familiar regions which renders Junmyeon pitifully breathless. It is needy and off-rhythm; deceivingly inexperienced but _hot_ and Junmyeon melts into it, into _him_ , completely, his surrender to the scene as soothing as it was arousing.

They fall onto the bed. Junmyeon grabs onto Yixing’s cool and bare skin for ground as he presses against him.

 _Yixing_ ,  He thinks, eyes fluttering shut - _There you are_.

_I missed you._

A broken moan-- “ _Junmyeon-ah, I want you_ ” -- and then the mirage suddenly dissolves; as Junmyeon’s eyes snap open and he gasps, fat salty tears spluttering from his eyes.

Plenty.

 

 

“G--god, Junmyeon? Shh. I’m sorry, shh. Shh.” Yixing rolls over to the side and embraces him tightly as Junmyeon’s body rocks forward with a loud unstoppable sob, the brutality of his emotion surprising them both, as he hugs him tightly back.

“Can’t.” Junmyeon whispers into his shoulder, shaking, “C-Can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Yixing asks, speaking into his collar, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Can’t do it.” Junmyeon hiccups.

“You can’t kiss me?” Yixing pauses his motions as he considers, “Can’t…. love me?”

The ache is clear. Junmyeon inhales as he shakes his head vehemently.

“No,” he insists, “I can. Of course I can. I _do_...” 

Yixing tightens his embrace.

“It’s okay, Junmyeon-ah.” Yixing’s voice is hoarse, _cracking_ with the significance of the past few moments, “We don’t have do anything. I don’t want you to be upset.”

Junmyeon rests his head against Yixing’s shoulder, seeking calm and he finds it -- in his embrace. Yixing’s skin is soft and warm yet despite the tenderness of his words and form, he is betrayed by the intensity of his heartbeat.

Hoping to comfort, Junmyeon plants the lightest trail of kisses on his collarbone, burying his face into it for what felt like eternity.

 

 

 

The night passes. Calm settles. But they remain side-by-side, apart, but touching. 

“Do you want me to tell you a story, tonight?” Junmyeon  murmurs softly, as he rolls onto his side, crossing his arm over the other’s form.

It’s their routine at home. In the natural quiet that fills the house, they fill it with reminiscing and old stories that makes Yixing’s eyes sparkle with awe and affection.

He is surprised when he senses Yixing shake his head.

“Not tonight.” He hums, as his free fingers plant tiny affectionate taps on Junmyeon’s arm, “I want to talk about something… new for a change.”

“New?” 

“New.” Yixing affirms, “Like, today. You said that funny joke about the… space thingy.”

Junmyeon laughs softly. The joke in question had been a random one he’d told Yixing after passing by the national space centre.

“How do you organise a space party? _You planet._ ”

Yixing laughs warmly, the sound a pleasant bubbling from his chest.

“I admit that one was a new one.” Junmyeon affirms, “The rest that I’ve told you -- I’ve told you before.”

“They’re the best.” 

They fall quiet, eyes on the ceiling - drowsy, flushed.

Yixing allows his eyes to snap shut, delivering his request as a kiss to Junmyeon temples. “Tell me more, Junmyeon-ah.”

“Okay.” Junmyeon’s eyes narrow, “Uh. What did the emotional wedding cake say at the reception?”

“What?” 

“ _I’m in tiers._ ”

The sound of Yixing’s satisfied laughs echoes through the room and Junmyeon wishes he would be lucky enough to dream of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day is spent exploring the rest of the resort. Junmyeon takes Yixing around the key places he remembered that they had both enjoyed the last time they came: the beautiful line of palm trees, the barbecue restaurant, the cliff-side with the most gorgeous view of the multitude of islands in the horizon. 

“Junmyeon, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” 

They stand together by the railing. Junmyeon is viewing the horizon through the rusty old tourist telescopes. It’s so far, he thinks. He wonders if it’s as pretty up close.

“Is it okay if I try and reach out to my parents?” 

The words surprise Junmyeon but he responds automatically with a nod. He had been expecting this for a while. The timing seemed a little strange, but was there really a time when he would consider it safe and unsurprising?

“Of course.” He blinks, as he looks at him, “Yeah, it’s okay.” 

Yixing smiles brightly as he kicks at a rock by his sandal, 

“I know it might surprise you but watching some of the old videos. I think a part of me really misses them.” He speaks softly, “I’m guessing that they didn’t come to our wedding?”

“No,” responds Junmyeon, “We invited them but they didn’t come.”

_That’s why you couldn’t forgive them._

“Ah, okay.” Yixing shrugs, “They’re still my parents though, aren’t they? I’ll send them a message when we get home.”

 

 

 

 

 

And they respond quickly. By the end of the week, Yixing informs Junmyeon that they had invited him back to China. The news is revealed just as Junmyeon clambers into bed and he freezes, considering the implications this now presents.

“What do you think?” Yixing asks, propping his head on his palm as Junmyeon shifts in to the sheets.

“You should go,” Junmyeon has prepared himself. He knew it was coming the moment the topic first arose, “You should go and see them. It’s been too long.”

“Okay.” 

“Will you be okay travelling on your own?” Junmyeon inquires.

“Won’t you come?” Yixing murmurs, half suggestive.

“They won’t want me there.” Junmyeon responds as he lets his head fall heavily onto the pillow beneath him.

He closes his eyes firmly.

The bedroom lights soon dissipate. He feels Yixing move closer to him, until his breath is tangible on Junmyeon’s skin.

As what had become routine, Yixing’s hand reaches across and strokes his cheek, the familiar cool metal of his wedding ring against Junmyeon’s warm skin proving the most striking and wonderful sensation.

“Will you be lonely when I leave?”

Yixing’s tone is teasing.

“Yes.” Junmyeon answers quickly, not bothering to hide it.

He can practically see Yixing smile as he cooes, 

“Then I shouldn’t go for too long.”

“Please.”

Yixing’s lips touch his -- airy and modest.

“Okay.”

Junmyeon deepens the kiss himself. He is tired, and anxious, and their previous attempt at this meant that he is more aware than ever that he is _aching_. 

He rests his hand on the back of Yixing’s head as he selfishly tastes the inside of the other’s mouth, a little needier than he intends, as he exhales with a soft moan. Yixing reciprocates, skin flushing, matching his rhythm with the tenderest of touches.

“Maybe, I won’t leave-- _hmm_ \--” whispers Yixing, as the other rakes cool fingers tenderly through his his hair, his shoulders, and back, “I’ll bring you back candies, Junmyeon-ah.”

 

 

 

Strange. Junmyeon isn’t sure when he might have picked that tidbit up. It was true. In their early years, Yixing did always bring him a set of haw candies back as a present. He liked the tartness and the punch of the flavour.

“Just make sure you come back in one piece.” Junmyeon states, as the other continues to nip affectionately at his bottom lip, “And you text me at least once. Every night.”

“Alright.”

“I’m serious, Yixing.”

Soft lips brush the sensitive flesh of his earlobe and Junmyeon sighs, before he makes fists and beats lightly against the other’s chest, 

“You better answer or I’m sleeping.”

“One piece. Texting. Yep.”

It’s dark and their noses bump when Yixing tries to move closer again. Junmyeon laughs, almost coughing, as he hears the other wince outwardly.

“Let’s keep kissing. Come on.”

“Okay, okay. Here, _here_.” Junmyeon feels Yixing’s arm all the way down to his hand and guides the limb to his face. Fingers hurriedly splay to find his lips, and there is no time to breathe, as Yixing draws his lips to his in the same learned way as before. Just the right amount of tongue and the tiniest tease of teeth. 

Now that he could’ve learned from the videotapes. Yixing must have captured hundreds of kisses over the years. Regardless of Junmyeon’s whining about how cringey on screen kisses were.

 

 

 

 

“Junmyeon-ah?”

“Hm.”

The urgency of kissing has calmed, brought on by Junmyeon playfully pushing Yixing off him to respect his rather rigid sleeping routine.

“I wanted-- _nothing_. Never mind. Never mind.” 

The unmentioned request hangs heavy between them.

But Junmyeon knows the question. He knows it because he knows Yixing; and he’s grown-up enough to know the hardness pressing primly against his ass isn’t some piece of furniture that has haphazardly fallen onto the bed. It’s been a while; and what happened at the resort wasn’t forgotten. 

“We can,” Junmyeon finds himself murmuring, noting the increased volume of his heartbeat through his ears, “After you get back.”

“Yeah?” 

Junmyeon blinks and nods in the dark, before rolling over to face Yixing and leaning across to place a tender kiss on his jaw.

“I can help you now. Hand or mouth, you choose.”

Yixing practically _chokes_ , as he emits a wearily laugh.

“Serious? You’re going to drive me crazy, Junmyeon-ah.”

“I’m still getting eight hours of sleep, Yixing. Choose now or forever hold your peace.”

_He’s going to pick hand._

Always. Yixing always picks hand if it’s going to be quick because he craves kissing Junmyeon’s lips above all. If he picks differently, then that would surprise his husband most of all.

Yixing sighs. “Hand then.”

An subtle heat rises to Junmyeon’s cheeks as Yixing’s lips find his in the dark, moving and stealing his next breath almost immediately, as he murmurs,

“Keep your lips on mine.”

 

 

 

-

 

For Yixing’s flight, Junmyeon delivers him to the airport. It has been four months since the accident and it is strange thinking how in the time that had spanned, seasons have changed -- spring, now blossoming into the summer. It is even stranger being separated from Yixing for the first time in a _long_ time and it doesn’t fully hit him until he finds himself alone at the house, left with the newly delivered boxes at the door. 

He takes them upstairs into the spare room. 

At the recognition of his free time, he begins to unbox them. 

Junmyeon pulls out item after item, wedding gifts -- memorabilia -- new trinkets he had ordered for their new home which now, without Yixing, feels scarily empty. 

Looking around the spare room, down to the grim aged wallpaper and single-glazed windows, Junmyeon realises that everything is sickeningly old when by now, everything should have been fixed up and new. Him and Yixing had a plan for every room in the house before: and it all returns to Junmyeon as he silently fixes up all the items in places around the small space, creating a gallery of sorts, as each item signifies a memory that he yearns to recollect.

One box holds his wedding shoes and Junmyeon finds himself cross-legged, admiring them with shiny eyes.

 

__

_It’s late and cold. Minseok has his new date over which meant the established couple in the apartment are forced to spend a few hours outdoors. They’re too poor for anything fancy; too tired to be decisive; so they rest on the pavement outside their home which they tended to do a few times a month to chat and drink._

_‘Look at my shoes.’ Junmyeon sticks out his soggy old trainers and laughs, ‘I’m not going to replace them until they’re absolutely falling apart.’_

_Yixing laughs with him, eyes turned to the cloudless sky as they return to Junmyeon. ‘We have enough to offer for a place now, Junmyeonnie. You can buy shoes.’_

_‘Yeah,’ Junmyeon exhales, creating mist in the air, ‘All our saving is actually paying off.’_

_The piggybank plan was something they had decided on as a responsible adult couple. To save their money together; for their future; and they committed, finding out through the months that it was able to motivate them through all the hardship of their monotonous day jobs._

_Yixing slides across and wraps an arm over his boyfriend. Junmyeon lays his head on the dark haired man’s shoulder, eyes hazy and gazing over the empty street across them._

_‘It’s not enough in life to get by, you know.’ Yixing murmurs, as he turns his head slightly to press a comforting kiss on Junmyeon’s head, ‘I don’t want us to live day-by-day. Worrying.’_

_‘That’s kinda, what life is like though.’ Junmyeon murmurs, aware of just how -- Junmyeon -- he sounds, which earns a soft laugh from the other._

_‘I want to take care of us, Junmyeonnie.’_

_‘Okay, so we’ll save more.’ Junmyeon says, ‘I get the picture.’_

_‘No, I want to marry you.’_

_The words are met with the distant sound of traffic speeding by from a different road._

_Junmyeon lifts his head and narrows his eyes. Yixing is frozen still, before his face explodes into a bright and sudden grin,_

_‘I want to marry you.’ Yixing repeats, meeting his eyes, ‘I really want to marry you. Do you want… to?’_

_Something wild and beautiful blossoms in Junmyeon’s chest as he gasps loudly -- happily. ‘What-- yes, yes, yes, okay.’ He blinks as Yixing laughs and kisses him chastely._

_‘Great,’ answers Yixing, as he adds, ‘But not yet. Not until we have enough for,” he counts on his fingers as he speaks, ‘A place, a car, enough for you to get a better job-- and a wedding obviously--’_

_Junmyeon remains in the most wonderful state of shock. Did he really just propose?_

_‘So we do have to save more.’ he mumbles as he holds Yixing’s hand who proceeds on to press warm lips to his cold knuckles._

_‘A lot more, baby.’ Yixing nods, ‘But we can do it. I’ve got a plan on how. We don’t have to rush.’_

_A soft pause follows before it hits Junmyeon again and he smiles widely._

_‘Wow.’ Junmyeon acknowledges, eyes brimming with tears as Yixing kisses his hand again and again, ‘Did you really just propose to me, Zhang Yixing? With a financial plan too?’_

_‘Yes.’ Yixing answers with a wide smile, ‘I’m going to marry you, Junmyeonnie.’_

_It hits Junmyeon for the umpteenth time and he smiles again, turning to his boyfriend excitedly,_

_‘So you’re my… fiancé now?’_

_‘Yes. But I don’t have a ring so…’ Yixing’s tone falls flat._

_‘Don’t need one. Don’t need one.’ The words fall from Junmyeon’s lips as he gushes, smiling up at Yixing’s features adoringly, ‘You asking me is enough.’_

_And then he pauses._

_‘Why tonight? Why ask me here?’ Junmyeon asks, knowing this simple setting and direct action contrasts with his boyfriend’s nature of highly romantic gestures._

_‘Because of your shoes. I see that your eyes are sad when you see them.’ Yixing points at them, as he offers Junmyeon a soft smile, ‘But I want you to look at them as a reminder of your hard work. I want you to be able to tell yourself when things get hard again that you’re doing this because you’re working for a better and more comfortable life one day. A full and happy life you can share with me.’_

_‘My future husband.’ Junmyeon smiles playfully,_

_‘Yep.’_

_‘Wah.’_

_They nudge each other a little before the force of the emotions fully descend and Junmyeon is left crying into his hands whilst Yixing is whispering amused but fond words of comfort as he withholds his own._

_‘Junmyeon-ah, don’t cry.’_

_‘I can’t believe we’re g-going to get m-married one day…’  
_

 

From that night on, all they seemed to receive was good fortune. 

Junmyeon acquired a better position at a company more suitable to his literary interests; and Yixing was blessed with a business opportunity through a mutual friend that would skyrocket to a level of success they could have only dreamt of. And from there, their dreams grew and grew and they finally reached their financial target three years later: a car, the jobs, and the perfect (imperfect) home, on the outskirts of the city, in a little snug of green where Yixing pledged to keep ducks. 

And their wedding became the ultimate celebration of all of their hard work. The ceremony was quiet and prim. But the reception was completely contrasting: a summer reception, hosted outdoors, and it was lively, lavish, and wonderfully loud. They must have danced a hundred times, not counting the many waltzes Junmyeon danced with the guests.

 

_‘It’s weird, you’re not crying.’ Yixing comments, as Junmyeon rests his head on his chest, both taking the dance floor for the umpteenth time. They dance slowly and rhythmically on the stone floor, despite the harsh beats of the song._

_Under the pretty lights they hung up themselves, the newly married pair fall into the romance of it all -- finding strength in the warmth that persists despite the many hours that had already passed._

_‘I already did. Four times. This hour. I’m not crying anymore.’ Junmyeon jokes, as he passes one of their guests a fond smile -- an old college friend, now a playwright in Europe. For Junmyeon, it’s strange meeting everyone again. In a sense, it’s both a hello and a goodbye; for here they were, welcoming the coming dawn of a new stage in their lives. And how lucky they were, to be able to share this occasion with so many of those they loved._

_‘Thank you for working hard, Junmyeonnie.’ Yixing kisses his forehead softly._

_‘What?’ Junmyeon laughs, ‘Why are you saying it like that?’_

_‘It’s true.’ Yixing nods, sighing in satisfaction as he moves his arms to embrace him fully, ‘All of this? All of this is because you believed, trusted, and fought for me. It’s been ten years since we met and not a day goes by I don’t thank the heavens for giving me you.’_

_‘Shud--dup.’ Junmyeon hiccups and he feels the tears stir._

_Yixing suddenly laughs, prodding him at the side._

_‘I knew it. My husband, the crybaby.’_

 

 

 

Junmyeon and Yixing never had much in their relationship in terms of capital. But their riches came in the love they had for each other -- and the friends and relationships they kept and nurtured. This became clear to them when they announced their wedding date and so many people sought invitations and came from everywhere.

Friends whom had built their lives abroad flew in specifically to see them; just to see them _finally_ get to where they wanted to be.

 

They were the couple -- the love story -- that everyone had rooted for.

 

And now.

 

Junmyeon leans back on the floor, eyes drifting shut as he dwells in the intensity of the silence. He remembers the vows --  the dancing and singing and food--  and around him are all the memories he’s suppressed and purposefully hidden from his own eyes. Within them he senses the happiness, the promises, the good fortune which others had pledged on them that wonderful day.

Slowly he opens his eyes and his heart aches as he realises just how precious this all was to him. Their wedding day had been the best day; a celebration of a love so wonderful that it moved so many hearts; and it had meant so much to the happy couple who had waited and waited.

 

 

Now Yixing could not remember any of these memories. He could not remember their love, their stories, their sacrifices.

If he was here, he would look on these objects — these memories — like a passing stranger. 

So what purpose do they serve now?

 

 

 

 

 

In the next four days, Junmyeon drinks away a blinding misery which he had dragged into view the moment he unpacked the first box and was now incapable of stowing away. He succumbs to it all with no restraint, feeling utterly free and trapped at the same time as he falls deeper into the silence of his home.

 

He is still drunk and hiccuping when Yixing finds him, having returned home early, keen to surprise his husband whom he had believed to be doing his usual routine of watching old war documentaries in bed.

Finding him in this state after several fruitless calls to the house stuns the man into disbelief.

“What are you doing?” Yixing holds his face as it droops in his hand, reeking of strong spirits, “Junmyeon-ah, why are you like this?”

“You’re… not … supposed… home… yet,” slurs Junmyeon as he rubs his eyes, before his fingers tug against his hair nervously, “I’m… bedroom….”

The rest of the words dissolve into jittery mumbles. Yixing hauls him up carefully and takes them back into their bedroom. 

He helps him into bed. “Junmyeon-ah,” he calls again, softer, “Did something happen?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t answer but he is sniffling as he drifts off to sleep. 

 

 

-

 

 

When Junmyeon wakes up the next morning, he knows immediately that something profound has happened.

He wanders down the hall, head heavy and pulsating and it is there that he finds Yixing on the floor, snacking on candies as he watches their wedding videos on the laptop he has across him. Junmyeon recognises the images because he has been repeating them constantly the past few days, burning the colour scheme of white and burgundy into his own brain.

“Morning.” Yixing greets him, looking up, clearly uncertain.

“Morning.” Junmyeon returns.

The air between them is stifling and it is Yixing that clears it.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this stuff was here, Junmyeon-ah? All our wedding stuff?” He looks around at the gifts, the cards, the clothes, the pictures -- all the beautiful wonderful things which had been kept from him, “Did you put them here… on purpose?”

Junmyeon inhales sharply as he looks away, folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“You did.” Yixing swallows. “I see.”

He glances down at the image on the screen where flashes of strangers’ faces are appearing, each taking a moment to wish the couple a great day and a prosperous and happy lifetime together.

When he looks up again, Junmyeon is gone.

 

 

 

 

 

“Junmyeon-ah?”

 

Junmyeon is back in bed, on his side, fingers curled into the sheets. He wills his eyes to shut as he feels the added weight on the mattress, hearing Yixing’s heavy breathing from behind him.

“You must think I hate you,” Junmyeon begins, as he opens his eyes and notices the first rays of sunlight through the heavy dusty curtain, “Because I kept it all away from you like that. But I swear it’s not like that.”

“Then why?” Yixing presses, “Why would you keep it from me?”

There, the secretive and looming shadow which has made home in Junmyeon’s heart finally reveals itself. It rips its disguises off: all the trailed off words in conversations, the quiet glances in public, the soft sobs into his hands alone in the bathroom when Yixing sleeps. Junmyeon finally unveils his shame because he knows if he hides it within any longer then his unsaid misery would thoroughly tear him apart.

“Because.”

Junmyeon draws a soft breath.

 

“Because a part of me feels like this is a part of our life that isn’t yours, Yixing. Not like this. You can’t remember it but we poured everything we had into this house, into the car, the jobs, the _future_. We did this. And it was really -- really -- hard on us sometimes. But because we got through it, this wedding became the most meaningful thing to ever happen to me. It represented all of those years we spent believing that we could make it even when others said we couldn’t. We were just two kids in love Yixing and look what we made….I was so _p-proud_ ….” 

Junmyeon stutters as he sobs into his hands,

“And to see all of that now play out in your eyes as just another lost memory. I couldn’t take it. It _hurt_ me. This was everything to us and the idea that you will never feel that pride, that happiness, that meaning…. How could you love us, love me? Like you used to?” 

 

Tears splashed onto Junmyeon’s lap as he murmurs a final,

 

“None of this is your fault. But realising that you lost everything about us _hurts_. You’re my person, Yixing. I would carry the world for you because we were always more than enough for me.”

 

 

 

 

Through the blur of the tears, Junmyeon senses Yixing approach him. The dark haired man plants himself on the spot beside his husband on the bed, eyes deep and thoughtful.

“Do you love me, Junmyeon-ah?” Yixing asks. 

Junmyeon nods, once -- twice, “ _Of course_ I do,” as Yixing places a weary hand on his cheek. The other leans towards the touch, tired eyes fluttering with the natural sense of comfort found against his husband’s skin.

Yixing edges closer, his words pronounced with more strength as he wills for Junmyeon to listen, 

“You know I have always felt like I knew _you_ , Junmyeon from the time I woke up at the hospital. I can’t remember what kinds of food you like, or why you like watching war dramas, or what we did for our last anniversary….but I remember what your lips taste like, and what your laugh sounds like, and that I live to see you laugh.” He exhales, as his free hand balls into a fist, “I _feel_ love for you, Junmyeon. And it has what has gotten me through this entire thing. You have. You have taken me through the hardship again and it might not feel like I love you the same but I know that with time I will. Because I _do_ right now. I love you…. and this is why I came back early because I couldn’t bear the way they talked-- because this is our life now… this is the promise we made….”

He stutters, suppressing his tears as he inhales deeply.

“ _Yixing_.” Junmyeon whispers, wiping the others’ eyes tenderly. 

“We can still be happy here.” Yixing responds firmly, as he nods his head, taking Junmyeon’s hand to his lips, “If we look to the future, then nothing we dreamed has to change. But you have to want it too. You have to want this future with me.”

Presented with such a question, Junmyeon can only smile tearfully as he nods. 

“I want it,” he mumbles, as he leans forward and finally -- finally -- kisses the man he loves, honestly and devotedly, “I want it. I want you. I want all of it.”

And suddenly Junmyeon realises that he believes, just like he did then. Because this was Yixing; his Yixing, always.

 

 

 

Yixing’s arms wrap tightly around him as he murmurs sweetly into his hair, 

“It’s all here, Junmyeon-ah. It’s always been here. I’m here with you.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

The veil lifts and the young married couple pledge to rebuild their life properly from that day onwards. 

They start with revamping their home, staying loyal to the plans which a giddy and young Junmyeon had designed -- all colourful decor and long windows with a study that they can share upstairs, which in the past had been the old room which had stored the wedding furniture.

Speaking of said furnishings, all the wedding items are now proudly displayed around the house and there isn’t a month that passes when Yixing doesn’t recite something from the wedding videos which had replaced the holiday videotapes as his favourite to watch on rainy days.

Junmyeon goes back to working on his novel. Yixing also braves a limited return to work which he unsurprisingly excels at after only a few introductory sessions to what has been the principal passion of his life for the past three and a half years.

There is no shimmying when it comes to the motorcycle though.

Junmyeon remains firmly against it; and Yixing decides to ask about it on a monthly basis instead. 

 

 

 

 

Unsurprisingly, the first time they make love isn’t that long after Yixing’s return to China. Junmyeon finally submits after a few unsubtle hints from his impatient husband who practically spends all of the days half-dressed, blaming it on the summer climate. 

The first time’s a little rushed; the second one, brought on by a lull of productivity during a particularly hot day only hours later, was infinitely more enjoyable. 

 

 

 

 

His legs are going to collapse. Maybe they already have; the heat of the pleasure which was rocking through him acting as the cleaver to his bones. 

Once Junmyeon is able to form words again, he sighs — half whining, half in disbelief. 

“Sh-- Yixing. How did you even… know that I liked… that?”

Bent over the desk in his study, Junmyeon is left gasping as he bites against the sleeve of his shirt, thoroughly spent as he feels the ache in his stomach from where he had been mercilessly pressed against the wood.

“Muscle memory?” Yixing cheerily retorts, “I also know you like this…” He plants tender kisses on the soft flesh of Junmyeon hip, already shiny with sweat -- and then he _bites_ softly. 

“Yixing-- ah!” Junmyeon hisses, before he quietly chuckles.

“I knew it!” 

“I’ll kick you.” Junmyeon frowns, as he hears the other laugh. He finally lifts his body up, sighing loudly, as the other welcomes him into an embrace.

It amuses Junmyeon somewhat that he is still partially clothed, albeit now dirty, whilst the other stripped so efficiently that he had clearly wandered into the room with only a single purpose in mind. 

“You did good, Junmyeon-ah.” Yixing kisses him wetly on the head, intending to tease, before lovingly grabbing Junmyeon’s ass, earning another whine of resentment, “You really do have a wonderful ass though….” 

“Yes… and because of your love of it, I’m going to have to shower. _Again._ ” Junmyeon huffs, as Yixing chuckles deeply.

“How about I run you a bath?”

Heavenly. Junmyeon quietens as he nods, knowing it is exactly what he needs. His limbs— tired and jelly-like from Yixing’s playing all day. 

“It’s going to be for two isn’t it.” He pronounces. 

“Of course.” Yixing tosses him a knowing smile, comfortably plodding out of the room, thoroughly naked.

Junmyeon smiles, rolling his eyes, as he calls out,

“It better be.” 

And then he sets off to clean up his desk, and the carpet, muttering something about not falling for the next time Yixing proposes to work together in the study on a weekend afternoon. 

 

 

 

 

 

The accident never becomes too distant from their lives. When they’re out, they frequently run into people whom they meet and Yixing doesn’t recognise. But the simpler things which Junmyeon’s missed, like the routines, his husband learns again and commits to. And the new things about Yixing which Junmyeon discovers - his own routines, his own new preferences, he also accepts as part of their lives and they never stop moving forwards.

 

 

 

 

But then.

Six and a half months after the accident and Junmyeon finds himself jogging right into Yixing. They have been jogging together lately but Yixing hasn’t wandered the woods alone since that time he scolded him.

Pulling his earphones out, Junmyeon blinks.

“Yixing? What are you…?” he pauses, “Did you get lost again? I got you a map on your ph--”

Junmyeon falters into silence as Yixing presses his lips to his, scooping up his entire sweaty form into his arms. The kiss is deliciously passionate and Junmyeon almost, almost, surrenders but he keeps his mouth tightly clamped as he swats at him, 

“What are you doing?”

“ _I remember._ ” Yixing’s eyes flash, “I remember the way.” 

Junmyeon blinks as he smiles. “Well, that’s great that means--”

“No, no. I remember.” Yixing is noticeably breathless. He has run all the way from home. And for that, his husband is left more confused— “Junmyeonnie, baby, I remember….” 

At the name, Junmyeon stops. Yixing has never called him that; he says he has never wanted to, for it felt strange to say--

“Don’t joke,” was Junmyeon’s plea, as he placed his hands on the other’s chest, searching his eyes, “What do you remember?”

“What do you want to know?”

Junmyeon blinks. “First kiss.”

“KNU dorm. Uh, you were listening to _The Beatles_.”

“Um,” Tears sting Junmyeon’s eyes, “Chanyeol’s birthday. My favourite Pirates of the Caribbean movie…”

“27th of November. The first one? We watched it together. I think there was an octopus? Not sure. I slept I think.”

It’s true. Junmyeon had imposed a marathon but Yixing had ended up succumbing to sleep for the first two films on his lap.

Suddenly, Junmyeon begins to laugh, as he shakes his head in disbelief and jumps forward, wrapping his arms around his neck,

“How do you feel? How did this even… happen? I--”

“I feel so woozy,” Yixing shares, shaking his head,  “Like I woke up a second time today. It’s nothing great. I just remembered it was your jogging day and I remembered how to get to you… and it just goes on and on…”

“Wow. Oh my god.” Junmyeon clings to his collar, laughing, “They said you wouldn’t-- it could’ve been years--” 

He then takes Yixing’s hand, and beats him to it -- pressing soft kisses to his knuckles, as he continues to laugh, the happy sound echoing through the forest.

“Can you remember…. Everything? Everything?” Junmyeon asks, voice reduced to a whisper — tentative as if frightened that he would wake up from this _dream_.

“The past few months… a little less clearly right now.” Yixing admits, before taking Junmyeon’s face and holding it to his own, “But I remember you— baby, you— you went through so much..:.” 

Flashes of the past few months enters Junmyeon’s head, replacing the rapidly blurring sight of the forest as he begins to cry from joy.

Yixing’s face never disappears however, his features melding with the greens of the trees and the dazzling display of sunlight through the canopies.

 

 

“I love you so much.” Junmyeon manages, as he reaches forward and traces his husband’s familiar face with his fingers, awed.

 

 

Around them, the forest seems to fall still. Each second that subsequently passes grows more tangible to the pair, leading to an understanding that their resolution has come.

And for the hearts, whom Fate has swayed with such unrelenting cruelty between the past and future: here now between them, finally, lies the beautiful present. 

 

 

“I love you too.” Yixing returns softly, smiling as he places his hand over his and holds it tightly. 

 

Their lips then touch in a natural motion. 

 

And for Junmyeon, the promise of the future suddenly grows brighter and more overwhelming, now reawakened with the strength of their past, and the awe of their present, all combining into one. 

 

 

-


End file.
